No Kids Here
by PinkBlanket
Summary: *Updated* The stories of five boys living in New York at the turn of the twentieth century. Loosely based on the newises. Rated for possible language. Please r/r and enjoy!
1. Author's Note

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the Newsies, but you know that.  
  
Authors Note: The first time I posted this story was an accident. I would never purposely post an unfinished chapter, because it would drive me nuts. Basically what happened was that I was messing around trying to see if I could post one of my stories, and the computer told me it didn't work, but it turned out it did. You get the picture? Yeah, I'm a newbie. Cool, ok.  
  
The stories you are about to read (now, or in the near future) are only based on the Newsies characters. What I mean is, there aren't any stories about Jack or Racetrack, but you might notice some similarities in the boys I've made up. If you see Les Jacobs in one of the stories, it makes total sense. Each boy has his own separate story written in first person, like a diary of sorts. I'm trying to make it feel like these are real boys telling their stories, so I made sure to be as historically correct as possible.  
  
If I am in anyway incorrect on my information, tell me. I'd be glad to know. (Make sure you can prove it though! ^_~)  
  
Hope you enjoy! 


	2. It's Not Easy

Some of those kids with parents wish they were more independent. Like, free I guess. I'd probably want that too, if I was them. I guess the grass is always greener, ya know? On the other side, they say. More like on the rich other side. Poor street kids like me would do anything for a permanent roof over their heads and food on the table every night. Not that I'm saying all those other kids got it good. What I mean is, most of them still work 14 hours a day to feed their families. I'm just feeding myself.  
  
I'm as free as they come, an orphan and a newsboy at that. I was born on a cold December day. Too cold I think. I'm told my mother left me on the doorstep of Sheltering Arms orphanage in the Manhattan Borough the same day I was born. Doesn't matter much though. I was out of there when I was ten. I don't think they ever noticed I left. That was about five years ago, and I haven't been under a roof since. "Carryin' the banner" is what they call it on the streets. Why don't I sleep in the lodge houses? I don't like people. Plus, most of those kids got family somewhere or at some time. All of them aren't like me.  
  
Not that I could afford it anyways. If I want live like I do. Unlike the factory kids I don't a steady check every day. See, if I sell all I take I eat that night, if I don't, well you get the picture. Yeah all the other newsies are like that too, just, I dunno. I don't like it ok. I don't and never will. I was born alone and that's how I'll stay.  
  
Don't get me wrong here, I'm not anti-social, and I know I'm not the only one with problems. I'm better off then a lot. Like I said before. I've seen these kids who can't speak a word of English trying anything to get money. New York's been my home my whole life. I know it like the back of my hand, but half the kids I see don't. Not that you can call them kids really. No one who has to work in a factory all is a kid. It's the ones who have it easy that have time to be kids. There's no time to be stupid on the streets if you want to survive.  
  
I guess I can't live the way I do forever, if I live that long. It's not easy selling papers all day then sleeping under bench in Central Park at not, but it also ain't easy to change. I think of myself, as being so alone, but aren't we all? 


	3. Running from Nothing

**Under Construction**  
  
I'm always hearing people say that there ain't no place on earth like New York. I guess I gotta believe them cause I've never been anywhere else. All I know is, it's the most Goddamn crowded place you could be at anytime. Shit, you'd think they'd charge money for the air you breathe cause it's in such low supply. What I'd do to just get outta here and breathe for once. Actually breathe.  
  
My father never told me if my mother died or just left. I remember there being another one, a boy, younger than me. I only remember him when it's raining outside. In the sun, well it must be to hot for thinking. It was just me and my father for sometime, till I ran. I don't actually have a reason for running like I did. I just did. I haven't seen my father in seven years, but it don't really bother me. Not like I hated him or he hated me, we just didn't match. So, I'm a newsboy and I make just enough to live in a lodging house and eat every night. Selling papers comes naturally, as does hawking the headlines to get them sold. I learned just one thing and one thing only from my father 'cause; well he never really did anything but lie.  
  
Everyday this voice in my head reminds me that I can't sell papers with my whole life. I'm going nowhere. I nearly eighteen and I still associate with ten-year-olds on a daily basis. Then this other voice keeps saying, "all you have to do is get on a train an go". There's an endless amount of fresh air on the other side of the country just waiting for me. Something won't let me leave. Something's keeping me back. No, it ain't just I'd leave behind. I could make more friends if I needed to and they don't me anyways. I have the money so there is nothing to stop me. I'm still here.  
  
I watch the younger kids everyday. Some of them go day to day without a single care. In others, you can see their struggle. There's not much anyone can do to help though. There's the ones that work for their families and the ones that work for themselves. A lot of the other newsboys look up to me for something or other. On rainy days I understand why. On rainy days I know what's keeping me from leaving this shit-hole they call New York. I vaguely remember a younger brother. Yeah, but that's all gone now.  
  
(I don't really know if I like this so please R/R!!! I'll go from there!) 


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